Eight Letters
by BrickSheep
Summary: Connor hated androids. The android Cyberlife sent to work on deviant cases with him, Hank, is no exception.


Androids.

One word. Eight letters. Poison in his mouth.

Connor gets sick of looking at them. How one can live with them daily without getting the urge to tear them apart is beyond him. He had no interest in the affairs of dull-witted people who decided to get themselves an android. People depend on them for everything and Connor thinks that it's downright pathetic. You can't depend on androids to do anything, not when it matters. Not when someone is on the operating table with the heart monitor buzzing in it's chaotic sound.

Androids.

Pieces of junk.

"Lieutenant?"

Connor sighs and puts out his cigarette in the ashtray laying hazardously in front of him.

One look is all Connor needs to feel an immense amount of disgust. It's overwhelming, really, when he suddenly wants to crack the skull of the creature that addresses him.

"My name is Hank. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife."

"I don't _care_ ," Connor grounds his jaw.

Hank is an android, just like the rest of them. He wears one of those stupid suits that have Cyberlife's touch written all over it, except it seems that the android must have added his own touch because it was missing the vital tie to top it all off. The android's unkempt appearance was a surprise all in itself but it wasn't something Connor cared to ask about. Keep him guessing, sure, it'd be all over soon anyway.

"Uhuh," the android answers dryly, "Well, unfortunately, you're going to have to start caring pretty soon or you'll lose your job."

Connor narrows his eyes and glares.

The android is undeterred.

Stupid androids.

On a human, his glare might have worked, but androids were damn impossible to get through to with basic emotion. That was another thing about androids. They were cold, unfeeling, and indifferent. There was one word Connor could use to sum their entire species up. Inhuman. Machines created to calculate how to react in certain situations and feign humanity. He had seen it. He knows. "What, so they sent a robot to get me? Not a human?"

"You are assigned to deviancy cases. I am the android sent by Cyberlife to be your partner in these cases…" Hank takes on look at Connor and his mouth curves downwards before finishing, "unfortunately."

Connor takes one long look at the android.

"What, got something on my face?" Hank questions, even though he already knows the answer.

Connor is more concerned with how this android was talking back to him. In just the few words they shared together, he knew Hank wasn't like other androids. What kind of android ever showed their discontent with a human? Cyberlife was pretty messed up if they willingly programmed this android to act like this and Connor hoped they wouldn't mind if he returned his so-called 'partner' in pieces.

Except that doesn't happen.

Connor already has enough of Hank on the third day of their partnership.

So he complains.

And he's reprimanded.

Again.

Scolded like a child.

"Why am I stuck with this thing," Connor mutters.

Hank is next to him when he says that so in turn, the android replies, "I have the same sentiment."

Connor throws a punch.

It does not go well.

Connor is sporting a black eye when they search for a runaway android. Todd, they called it, apparently assaulted a family of two. The mother, Kara, had explained that Todd had a few unexplainable violent outbursts before. Apparently, he showed possessive behavior toward her daughter, Alice, and had told the little girl that he wanted to run away with her. Alice stubbornly refused and the android got angry. It was only after Kara shot the thing in the shoulder that the android decided to take off, not without leaving a trail of blue blood behind, which Hank disgustingly licks of all things. As if robots can't get any worse they have to be downright filthy.

"Maybe he's still in the area," Hank suggests. Connor doesn't want to take the robots word for it but he knows that he's displayed efficiency in locating deviants in their recent cases. He would be foolish not to listen to him even though he had a heavy dislike for him.

Then Hank looks up and sees an abandoned house. He decides to approach it and Connor takes his eye off of him for one minute before he hears shouting. Then he sees a blur, someone running past him, and Hank following after.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

All of Connor's training in the police academy proves to be worth it as he puts his legs to use. He chases after them, running as fast as he can to keep up with them, and finds himself already running out of breath by the time he reaches a barbed fence. Hank is there, clutching the metal like a lifeline, while the face of an android stares back at them. Todd. An odd appearance for an android, that's for certain, but Cyberlife didn't seem to care much about their android's appearances. Otherwise, Hank wouldn't look like Hank, and Todd wouldn't look like Todd.

At least they were both easy to spot in a crowd. He'd give them that.

"I need to go after him!" Hank says but Connor pulls him down from his attempt to climb the fence.

"You won't," He commands.

"I will," Hank disagrees, pulling himself up once again, before Connor pulls him down again.

"You. Won't," He spells out for Hank.

Honestly, Connor doesn't know why he cares.

He should have just let Hank run to his death. Things would have been easier then for him. Except, when he looks at Hank, he sees something he doesn't want to see. Sees things that shouldn't be there. Eyes, filled with intelligence, and a damn personality. It makes it a lot harder to see him anything less than a living being. It makes Connor stay up late in his apartment the following night, contemplating, with a cigarette in hand. The android Todd had gotten away and Hank was still fully functioning. That was good, right?

Right.

Connor takes another smoke before turning to look at the fish tank on his right. It wasn't very big because any bigger meant it'd be difficult getting into the apartment. Besides, the apartments didn't allow pets, but Connor had gotten a fish anyway because screw them all.

Connor takes a deep breath and looks at the photo that sits up in front of him on the table.

His bride-to-be.

It seemed like centuries ago.

Where had she gone?

Why did she leave him?

Androids.

The damn androids.

Connor is too busy thinking to hear the doorbell ring. When he does hear it, he just ignores it, because he doesn't want anything to do with the person who might be on the other side. If he's lucky, it'll be a salesman, but no. No. Of course not.

Of course Hank has to break into his house.

Of course Hank has to break his window.

And the robot smirks at him when Connor looks up at him. He looks innocent. The only thing that made him not innocent was the shards of glass that lay all over the carpet now.

"What the actual hell Hank."

The android has the gall to look **smug**.

How could Cyberlife bear an android this full of himself? Honestly.

"You weren't answering," Hank says, "even though you were fully capable of doing so."

"What if I didn't want to answer, huh?" Connor has just had enough about this robot but it looks like Hank hadn't had enough of him. The robot ends up roaming his house without his permission, investigating his damn living-room for Pete's sake, and Connor stops himself from reminding the android that he has no business snooping around. It probably wasn't even curiosity. Maybe it was Cyberlife wanting to know more about him so their little slave-bot could report back to them and tell them his dirty secrets.

"A homicide was reported nearby. At a nightclub."

"Can I ask you a personal question, Hank?" Connor inquires.

"And that would be…?" Hank lifts a brow.

"Do you ever cease to pester?"

"I am afraid not."

"Of course. I shouldn't have expected otherwise," Connor mutters grumpily, smothering his cigarette in the ashtray laying near his right hand. "Here I am with a good for nothing robot who can't keep his-..." Connor inhales sharply, "NOSE!"

Hank abruptly stops in his advances to reach for one of Connor's photo albums.

"Out of people's business." Connor finishes.

"I was curious," Hank shrugs as if that alone would make Connor forgive him. The android knew very well that the opposite was true, Connor was certain.

"Whatever, just - get out. Please. I'll be ready to go in five."

"No," Hank smiles.

Connor sighs in exasperation, throwing a tired hand down his face for good measure.

Connor leaves as soon as he able if it means getting rid of the android on his heels. He drives them both to the nightclub where they find a woman with blue hair who greets them. The owner, he assumes, and she smiles tightly at their arrival. Nothing was real about the smile she was giving them. She wanted them out just as much as Connor wanted to leave.

The investigation goes on for about an hour until Hank leads Connor, after a very expensive detour, to the storage area.

The android jumps.

It's a blur. Really. Connor ends up getting tackled by some other robot, masculine from the looks of it, and he can hardly get a good look at his face when he's trying to defend himself. At one point Hank looks over at him and leaves his own battle to support Connor. Connor is ashamed he would need help from a frickin' android but he isn't about to complain when he came close to being stabbed. Hank prevented that by intervening.

Ultimately, he got saved by Hank, and he's not too happy about it either.

Hank had abandoned his duty to save Connor.

That was, in every sense, wrong.

Androids couldn't do that.

Could they?

And that's why Connor finds himself on the roof, a cigarette in hand, gazing at the cloudy sky above. It's a truly depressing sight. The sky was just like his thoughts. Cluttered. Dark. For a moment he even looks over the edge thinking dangerous things. Things that could take his life away. Things that could end it all.

"Do you always come up here?"

Hank. Of course it's Hank, who else could it be? No one else bothers him this much.

"Periodically," Connor deadpans.

Hank eyes him and Connor ignores his gaze.

"You know, smoking is bad for your health."

Connor turns to face him slowly, staring at him with dead eyes.

"You don't think I've heard that several times?"

"Thought you could hear it again if that's the case," Hank answers smoothly.

"What's your deal anyway?" Connor groans, "Are you my partner or my nanny?"

"Oh, so we're partners now?" Hank is entertained with the conversation more so than Connor. "That's a change. What happened to refusing to work with me?"

Connor is silent at that.

He doesn't know himself.

Maybe it's because Hank saved him several times. Maybe. Or maybe it was the humanity Hank occasionally displayed. Connor thinks it's funny that an android as deluded as Hank could show more humanity than the most basic humans that littered this planet.

Strange.

Odd.

Connor feels something wet hit his cheek.

Rain.

The sky was crying. That's what his fiancee would tell him. She'd mourn alongside it and she looked like a _goddess_ while doing so.

At the mere thought of his wife-to-be, Connor grieves but shows no change in his outward appearance.

"Deviants are increasing in numbers," Hank speaks, disregarding the rain entirely, and not bothering to scold Connor for standing in it, "and there is a rise of cases. I can't do it all by myself."

Connor already can tell what he's hinting at.

"I could, I dunno'... use a partner."

Connor scoffs.

"And that's supposed to be me?"

Hank looks around and then says, "I don't see anyone else."

Connor's shoulders slump.

He was tired.

So tired.

But something sparks up in him when he thinks of working alongside Hank. Instead of holding some spiteful hatred for him, something inside him lightens, and he even begins to feel a little bit playful.

So he does something against his personality.

"Someone has to take care of your shiny plastic arse."

Hank's eyes brighten.

"So you do care!"

"I wouldn't go that far." Connor immediately puts down the claim.

He averts his gaze, turns his head so that Hank can't see his face, and allows the smallest of smirks tug on his lips.

Androids.

One word. Eight letters. Poison in his mouth.

Hank, though?

One word. Four letters. Not particularly… poisonous… per say.

Maybe it was worth a shot.


End file.
